Faculty Follies
by victoria p
Summary: How Scott got his groove back


Title: Faculty Follies  
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]  
Summary: How Scott gets his groove back.  
Rating: PG - mild language  
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights. All songs belong to their respective owners, none of whom are me.  
Archive: If you've already got my stuff, yes. If not, please just let me know you're taking it.   
Feedback: Better than chocolate.  
Notes: Thanks Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. Go rent "The Commitments." Read "The Barrytown Trilogy." You'll love it.   
  
indicates thoughts  
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation  
  
  
Faculty Follies  
  
Scott Summers was brooding.  
  
He wasn't normally a broody kind of guy. He left that to the expert -- Logan -- and concentrated on being the cool older brother-type to the students at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Except that no one -- with the possible exception of his fiancée -- thought he was cool. And even though he acted like it didn't bother him, it did. It really, really did.  
  
Especially now. He was sitting in the ballroom, which was being turned into a makeshift theatre for this year's edition of "Faculty Follies." Scott *loathed* Faculty Follies. Every year he tried to persuade Professor Xavier to nix it, but every year the professor, Jean and Hank overruled him, saying it was a proud tradition dating back to the days when they were the only students and they'd made Xavier humiliate himself by doing card tricks and telling fortunes.  
  
And now it was his turn to be humiliated. He'd originally planned to do a dramatic reading. He was very fond of Shakespeare and was going to give Macbeth's famous speech "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."  
  
Then he got a load of the way Logan was swaggering around the room, shirtless, tool belt strapped around his waist, building the stage and the sets. And he saw how all the girls couldn't keep their eyes off him. Not for Logan the ignominy of appearing in anything so lame as the Faculty Follies.  
  
Scott sighed.  
  
"What's wrong?" Jean asked, slipping into the chair next to him.  
  
He waved his script at her. "I can't do this," he said irritably.  
  
"You do a wonderful Macbeth, honey," she said soothingly. "It will be fine. You'll see."  
  
He set his jaw as Hank came out on stage, rolling a cart of musical equipment with him. Suddenly, the big blue man was playing the keyboards with his feet and the drums with his hands. The sounds of Depeche Mode, as interpreted by Hank McCoy, floated through the ballroom.  
  
Then Hank was finished and Jubilee, the tyrant -- ahem -- director of the show called out, "Summers, you're next."  
  
His mouth opened and closed. "You look like a fish," Jean teased gently.  
  
He stood. "I-- I'm not ready." And he fled the room.  
  
Goddammit! he thought, rushing to the garage and hopping on the motorcycle. *His* new motorcycle, thank you very much, the one that he built after Logan stole the old one.  
  
He tore out of there, for once disregarding all the rules and regulations as he pondered the unfairness of it all. He used to be cool. When he was in high school, before his mutation manifested, he'd been the starting second baseman on the baseball team, and a second line center on the hockey team. He'd had chicks begging to go out with him and a three point eight GPA.  
  
And now he was Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt Summers, Ol' One-Eye, the dweebiest of the dweebs. When the hell did that happen? He wanted to blame it all on Logan. But he knew it had started before the damned Canuck had shown up. It was just that with Logan running around shirtless, all feral and growly, Scott felt he came off worse by comparison.  
  
He finally came back around midnight. Jean wasn't worried -- they'd been in touch telepathically -- and he liked the idea of coming home smelling of liquor and smoke. For once, it was Scott who'd been out misbehaving.  
  
Jubilee, Rogue and Kitty sat on the stairs.  
  
"It's late," he said, proud he wasn't slurring his words. "Shouldn't you girls be in bed?"  
  
"We can help you," Jubilee said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"With the Faculty Follies. See, we know there's a real ladies' man in there dying to get out, underneath the cardigan and the chinos," Rogue said.  
  
He blinked, though they couldn't see it. "What?" Real intelligent response, there, Scott.  
  
"We have a plan." This was Kitty, his straight-A, going to MIT in the fall Kitty, plotting something horrible for his embarrassment. "You are going to be the coolest thing in the show."  
  
"Considering the rest of the acts, that's not saying much," he responded without thinking. Rogue raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Tomorrow, three-thirty, out by the boathouse. Be there," she said, before Jubilee could launch into a defense of the show. "And we did *not* have this conversation."  
  
He nodded. He probably wouldn't remember it anyway.   
  
***  
  
Scott found his way to the boathouse on the far side of the lake at three thirty the next day. He told himself he had imagined or dreamed the whole conversation, but just to be sure, he had to check it out.  
  
And there were Rogue and Kitty, boombox and CDs on hand, waiting for him.  
  
"Jubes will be along in a minute," Kitty said. "She and Remy were--" she stopped as Jubilee came rushing up, her clothes slightly rumpled and her lips swollen.  
  
"I see," Scott said wryly.  
  
"Okay, here's the plan. You're going to sing and we're going to be your back-up singers. We were thinking we could be the Summers-ettes," Jubilee said breathlessly.  
  
Rogue frowned. "I still like Scott and the Moist Towelettes better." Scott choked back a laugh.  
  
"I am not calling myself a Moist Towelette," Kitty said firmly.  
  
"That's not important right now," Jubilee replied, waving a hand. "We've got to get Mr. Summers here--"  
  
"Scott."  
  
They all three looked at him in surprise.  
  
"My name is Scott. If we're going to be co-conspirators, that's probably what you should call me. At least in private."  
  
"Okay, Scott," Jubilee said. "We've got some musical selections for you to choose from. This first one is my pick." She pressed play and he heard the familiar words, "This car is automatic. This car is hydromatic. This car is greased lightning." And then the music came up and Rogue was standing next to him and grabbing his arm.  
  
"You know how to do the Twist?" she asked, swiveling her hips in time with the music.  
  
"Of course," he replied, swinging her around and dancing like a fool.   
  
Kitty and Jubilee stared, mouths open.  
  
John Travolta sang, "Go greased lightning, coming past a quarter mile" and Kitty, Jubilee and Rogue, sang, "Greased lightning, go greased lightning," and Scott realized what the plan was.  
  
However, there were certain lyrics in the song he was not going to be singing in front of an audience of young, impressionable students.  
  
He reached over and pressed stop.  
  
"Not that one."  
  
"But, but--" Jubilee stuttered.  
  
"No."  
  
Rogue sighed and Jubilee picked up another CD. "Moving right along, we're just going to skip over Kitty's selection."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Scott looked at the CD. "Sorry. Not going there."  
  
"Yeah," Jubilee continued, "the point is to make Scott look cool. Ricky Martin is *not* going to cut it."  
  
"My selection will make you look like Elvis and Frank Sinatra all rolled into one," Rogue said proudly, and he wondered why she was in on this at all. Surely she wanted to see him make a fool of himself so she and Logan could laugh about it. Then he realized that she and Logan had seemed to be at odds lately. "All the girls will be crushing on you when it's over."   
  
And he got it. She didn't like Logan wandering the school with packs of teenage girls following him. She wanted to have him all to herself. Well, he was fine with that. He could use some adulation. No, stop it, he told himself. Don't be so petty.   
  
"This is going to be fun," the southern girl said, as she pressed play.  
  
The music blared and he realized it was his Commitments CD. He'd insisted everyone watch the movie last week -- it was one of his favorites -- and obviously Rogue had enjoyed it.  
  
The girls were dancing madly, imitating go-go dancers and the singing started, "Gonna tell you a story," and he could hear the girls singing along with the back-up singers, "Every man oughta know. If you want a little lovin', you gotta start real slow. She's gonna love you tonight, if you just treat her right."  
  
And he started laughing, because it was absolutely perfect.  
  
***  
  
When they were done, he walked away, trying to hide his grin. Even Jean was going to be surprised by this, he thought. He heard them chattering behind him, their whispers loud enough to carry across the lawn, and the grin broke out before he could stop it.  
  
"Stop staring at his ass," Jubilee said.  
  
"I was not staring at his ass," Kitty replied furiously, blushing.  
  
"It's a nice ass to stare at," Rogue said wryly.   
  
"Rogue!" Kitty was shocked.   
  
"What? It is."  
  
"Logan wouldn't like hearing you say that," Kitty said, neatly turning the conversation away from her own contemplation of Scott's ass.  
  
Rogue tossed her head. "I don't give a damn what-all Logan likes or dislikes. He walks around like a half-dressed savage, lettin' all the women drool over him and he's gonna tell me I can't look at other men's behinds? I *so* don't think so," she responded emphatically.  
  
Oh, yeah, Scott thought, this is going to be fun.  
  
***  
  
"This is a nightmare!" Scott snapped as the girls rejected yet another of his suits.  
  
"You can't look like an off-duty cop, Scott. You have to look cool. Like a pimp," Jubilee said reasonably.  
  
"Like a --" Scott choked on the word as Kitty and Rogue broke into giggles.  
  
"We're going shopping," the Asian girl said firmly. "You need a suit and a fedora and maybe a nice coat to drape over your shoulders."  
  
"Like James Brown," Kitty added.  
  
"Huh!" Rogue barked in imitation of the Godfather of Soul.  
  
Scott sighed. He was outnumbered and outgunned and he knew it.  
  
***  
  
The trip to the mall was unpleasant, as were the smirks of every male in the mansion upon his return. The only thing that kept him from blasting them all -- aside from the fact that Jean would mind-fling him out to sea -- was the knowledge that he was going to look killer in the suit the girls had convinced him to buy. And they said they had matching dresses. He was waiting with ill-concealed anticipation to see those outfits. He had a feeling they weren't going to be demure or ladylike. But he decided he wasn't going to care about that. He was going to be cool, and he was going to have hot chicks in short skirts pogoing behind him as he sang karaoke in front of all his students.  
  
That thought made him want to run away, but suddenly it was the day of the show, and Rogue was leading him backstage, a wicked grin on her face. She was already wearing more make-up than he'd ever seen on her in the two years she'd been in Westchester, and a kimono-like bathrobe covered her body.  
  
"We're on last, sugar, so don't get dressed until Ororo's on. We want to keep the whole thing a surprise."   
  
Everyone had objected when Jubilee changed the finale from Ororo to Scott, but she was firm in her decision, and no one could dissuade her.   
  
He was just surprised Rogue had called him "sugar." He wasn't surprised by the scowl and gesture Logan threw his way. She never called anybody but Logan "sugar." He grinned, making the bigger man growl as he walked away.  
  
"That was fun," he said gleefully.  
  
"Don't enjoy it too much, Scott. He could still kick your ass," she replied dryly. "Now grab a seat. The show's about to start. Jubes will signal us when it's time to go get dressed."  
  
***  
  
Scott watched Professor Xavier do his usual Amazing Kreskin routine. He listened to the musical stylings of Hank McCoy with a grin. He laughed outright at Jean's juggling and joke-telling. Of course, she had the advantage of her telekinesis if any of the balls got away.  
  
He slipped away to get dressed and missed Kurt's amazing display of acrobatics and fencing, a performance that should have had the school talking for days, but was about to be upstaged, first by Ororo's belly-dancing, and then by himself and the Moist Towelettes. Yes, Rogue had gotten her way.  
  
And then Remy, who was the emcee, was introducing them. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's Remy's great pleasure to bring you the big finale, starring Scott Summers and the Moist Towelettes!"  
  
"Summers-ettes," Jubilee could be heard muttering through clenched teeth, but Scott paid her no attention.  
  
The lights were low and he stood in the spotlight. There was a black wool coat draped over his shoulders and the fedora on his head was set at a rakish angle. The music came up and he smoothly shrugged the coat off into Kitty's waiting hands.  
  
He looked at Rogue and Jubilee, who were shimmying on either side of him, and he almost lost it. They had on black knee-high boots and short, black spangly dresses and long satiny gloves. Short, he thought. More like indecent.  
  
Then it was time for him to sing. "Gonna tell you a story, every man oughta know. If you want a little lovin', you gotta start real slow. She's gonna love you tonight, if you just treat her right. You gotta squeeze her real gentle, gotta make her feel good, tell her that you love her, like you know you should now, and you'll be glad every night, that you treated her right. Hey, hey, hey, hey!" The girls sang with him, alternately pressing up against him or each other.  
  
The students, and Logan, sat openmouthed, staring at staid Mr. Summers moving and singing like a sex machine. Jean felt her heart beat faster and her mouth go dry. It had been a long time since she'd seen Scott so carefree and so, so *sexy*. She wasn't the only one entertaining lewd thoughts about the man onstage.  
  
The last round of "heys" was complete. Jubilee and Kitty were pogoing madly, while Rogue shook her ass in front of him, and, as the song ended, slid down to the floor bonelessly, clutching his ankles and giving him a look of such adoration (fake, he knew) that he wanted to crow.  
  
Throwing a fist in the air, he let out a final, "Yeah!"   
  
Suddenly, Logan was onstage, hauling Rogue up off the floor. "Keep your hands off her ass," he growled, slinging the southern girl over his shoulder. She let out a half-hearted complaint, but Scott could see her broad smile.  
  
And then there was Jean. ~Scott, honey, let's skip the party and celebrate up in our room.~   
  
He pushed his way through the crowd surrounding him, congratulating him on his return to cool, and found the woman he loved staring at him, eyes dark with passion and love.  
  
"I'll love you tonight," she purred, "if you just treat me right."  
  
Mimicking Logan's actions, he swung her up into her arms and marched up to their bedroom. No one saw them again until late the next day, though people with rooms on that floor could tell they were having a good time.  
  
End.  
  



End file.
